


But the World Looks Better Through Your Eyes

by littlelouies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon, I'm sorry Sophia, Multi, Self-indulgent fluff, Soccer Aid, Sophia has the smallest part, like so much fluff, there are mentions of Ed but he's not actually in it oops, this is 2k of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 14:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7108777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelouies/pseuds/littlelouies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry loves to see him doing things he loves. Whether it's being on stage in front of a crowd of thousands, playing football, reading to his sisters, or rubbing Harry's feet (maybe not that last one) Harry lives for the moments he gets to see Louis so completely in his element. Because, while Louis doing something as simple as brushing his teeth is breathtaking to Harry, watching him practice his knee kicks in the backyard is almost otherworldly. Louis seems to glow from the inside out- still is, even in this bar- and Harry can never get enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But the World Looks Better Through Your Eyes

Harry feels him before he sees him.

The noise of the club's music is a touch louder than he would like, Liam is standing much too close for the lack of people in their surrounding area, and Harry is maybe hedging on just this side of his tolerance for the emphatic way Liam tells a story, his hands filling all the space left in the room.

It's not exactly a large club, but it seems to get smaller in a second flat. One moment Liam is rambling ("But did you see that fifth attempt by Olly? I can't believe they even kept him in after that!"), Sophia wrapped snugly under his arm, and the next his voice fades to nothing in Harry's ears.

He almost wants to call himself creepy- he knows anyone else would- but he prefers to just attribute it to love, instead.

He turns from where he's standing at the bar, his eyes immediately knowing where to find his better half.

Louis is walking- no, full on sauntering- through the front door, a crowd of people trailing in behind him. Among them is Niall, a smile stretch widely across his face. Harry can see a laugh banging on his teeth to be let out. Louis is saying something quietly to him, their heads ducked close together while they stroll, and Harry can see the mischievous slope to his grin, one that's been known to lead to whip cream fights in their dressing rooms and removing all the furniture from Liam's house. Louis' eyes are crinkling at the corners when finally Niall's head falls back and his braying laugh escapes his mouth.

"Right in my ass, Niall," Louis is saying as the pair come closer to Harry and the bar. "I swear he did it on purpose!"

Niall is shaking his head fondly as they come to a stop in front of Harry and Liam.

"I don't know," he says, squeezing in beside Harry and motioning to the bartender, "I wouldn't really blame him if he did."

Louis smacks Niall on the arm, his grin stretching somehow further across his face, before he finally, blessedly, thankfully turns his eyes to Harry.

Harry thinks that after six years he should be used to this. By this point nothing with Louis scares him. Not their relationship, not their families, not the touch of Louis' hands on him. Those things come naturally and comfortably to him now. But sometimes his eyes will meet Harry's and suddenly he's sixteen in a posh bathroom with his fly down, a rushed "oops" falling from his lips, and piercing blue pulling him in.

Louis steps into his space, his hands resting on the bar on either side of Harry's hips, and tilts his mouth up to be kissed. It's soft- Harry may always be ready for deeper touches, but they're in public and he's not an animal- and lingering, Louis staying close to whisper, "hello, love" across Harry's lips.

Harry would be content to stay just like that all night, soaking up every quiet detail of Louis' match, but Liam claps Louis on the shoulder and pulls him into a hug.

"Congrats, mate," he says, patting Louis roughly on the back. "You did England proud."

"Hey!" Niall leans around Harry, his eyebrows furrowed. "What about me, tosser?"

Liam moves around Harry, pulling Niall into a hug with the intensity of a mother being reunited with a child they haven't seen in ten years. Sophia goes with him, wrapping her arms around them both, before they all three start excitedly chattering about the game and how ruggedly handsome Niall looked on the pitch.

Louis seems to take the opportunity and pulls Harry a few feet away, their fingers laced tightly together.

"Hello," Louis says again, the fingers on his free hands coming up to play under the hem of Harry's shirt sleeve.

Harry cups Louis' jaw and kisses him again. Just because.

"You already said that," he says when he pulls away, running his thumb over Louis' bottom lip.

"Yeah." His breath runs up Harry's arm. "But you didn't say anything back."

"Hello." Harry kisses him chastely, again and again. "Hello, hello, hello."

"It's me," Louis starts crooning before Harry can stop him.

Harry knocks their foreheads together, breathes him in for a second before leaning back.

"You were fantastic today," he tells Louis sincerely.

And he was. Harry loves to see him doing things he loves. Whether it's being on stage in front of a crowd of thousands, playing football, reading to his sisters, or rubbing Harry's feet (maybe not that last one) Harry lives for the moments he gets to see Louis so completely in his element. Because, while Louis doing something as simple as brushing his teeth is breathtaking to Harry, watching him practice his knee kicks in the backyard is almost otherworldly. Louis seems to glow from the inside out- still is, even in this bar- and Harry can never get enough. He thinks he falls in love with him more every day.

Louis smiles, his eyes going somehow softer.

"You really think so? I barely played."

"Absolutely," Harry's says, nodding quickly. "You were the best one out there."

Louis laughs, the corners of his eyes pinching.

"Haz, there were professionals out there. There's no way that's true."

"Well," Harry says, brushing Louis fringe back into a small quiff, "you at least had the best bum on the whole field."

"Harry!" Louis slaps his chest, a laugh on his lips.

"I'm serious," Harry tells him. "Everyone was talking about it. Using the peach emoji and everything."

"Oh my god," Louis laughs, tucking his face into Harry's neck.

"There was also a lot of talking about you being the King of kicking balls."

Louis leans back into Harry's sight, his eyes bright.

"The what of what?"

"The King of kicking balls. Although I think there's another thing to do with those that you're more the King of, but what do I know?"

Louis playfully shoves him back against the bar.

"Shut up." He shakes his head, seemingly in disbelief. "See if I ever let you on my tumblr again."

They order drinks and find Liam and Niall, who have dragged Sophia into a booth. She's sitting between them while they talk animatedly over her lap, Niall occasionally laughing right into her ear and once almost spilling his drink on her. Harry and Louis slip in, taking up the empty side with Louis' outstretched legs, and spend the next few hours listening to Niall go on about the game. Every once in a while Louis throws in a story about a player or a fan he met after, but he otherwise stays quiet, a content smile on his lips as Niall goes blue in the face trying to give the play-by-play of the game from start to finish.

After a while Louis yawns, his slow fingers playing with his medal he slipped around Harry's neck while they were waiting on their drinks.

"You getting tired, Superstar?" Liam asks from across the table.

"That's champion to you, mate," Louis sleepily tells him.

Harry grabs Liam's wrist, checking the time and finding that it's almost two in the morning. He and Louis have been up for almost a full day, since he refused to let Louis get up on his own, insisting that make him a full breakfast and a tea, and take him to his game like the good future-husband that he is.

"We should probably get going, Lou," he tells him, smoothing his hair down.

Louis hums contently, his fingers coming up to grab Harry's hand, twining their fingers together.

"You're probably right.” Louis smiles cheekily up at Harry. “I could definitely go for a hot bath and a back rub."

“Oooh, me too, please,” Sophia pipes up from the other side of the table.

Before Harry can even open his mouth, Liam is pointing a stern finger in his direction.

“Don't even go there,” he warns, just barely holding back his smile then looking down at Sophia. “And don't you get any funny ideas, babe.”

Next to them Niall is shaking his head fondly.

“How did I become surrounded with only couples as friends?” he asks glumly. “Where's Ed when you need him?”

“Ed's probably out somewhere writing a song about your eyes, Ni,” Louis tells him, grinning slyly. “Better get on that.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Niall looks slightly panicked. “Why would he be writing about me?”

Louis is convinced that at least two of Ed's songs are about Niall, something that he will never let go no matter how much Niall- and Ed himself- try to tell him otherwise. His theory has lead to more than one drunk musing during a speech at both men's birthday parties where Louis declared that they could “find love right where they are” if they would get their heads out of their asses.

“We snogged one time, Lou,” Niall shouts. “One time!”

“One time is all it takes,” Louis tells him. “Trust me, I would know.”

Harry snorts and playfully jostles Louis where he's leaned against Harry's side.

“Ignore him, Ni,” Harry laughs. “Louis still thinks Thinking Out Loud is about you, even though Ed told him to his face it's about us.”

Louis scoffs at him, tilting back to look up at him.

“Songs can be interpreted in many different ways, Harold.” He sniffs pointedly. “Just because Ed thinks its about us doesn't mean I do, too”

Niall and Louis dissolve into interpreting the lyrics of both of Ed's albums (even though Ed didn't even know Niall when his first album came out) while Harry chats with Sophia about work and their dogs. Eventually Louis grows tired of using his “you have no idea what you're talking about, Neil” and “you only think that because you're not on the same lyrical path Ed and myself are” arguments and tugs on Harry's arm.

“Bath,” he whines, nuzzling Harry's shoulder. “Back rub.”

Harry places a kiss to the top of his head before leaning Louis upright, saying their goodbye's as they tumble out of the booth. Harry is maybe just a little bit drunk on cosmos and Louis' smile, so if his feet don't quite land right on the wood floor and he stumbles a little and has to grab Louis' butt to right himself, who's to blame him?

They agree to all meet next week for breakfast before Louis guides Harry out of the club with an arm slung around his waist. It's late enough now on a Sunday night they don't have to worry about a stray fan catching them out like this and these moments are exhilarating for Harry. Being able to touch Louis out in the open air is something Harry can only compare to having perfect weather every day and something that Louis always teases him for, but Harry knows Louis loves it just as much as he does.

The glow from the street lamps surrounds Louis and Harry is struck by how much Louis is different but still the same. How he's still the same person in that bathroom getting their shoes ruined by Harry so long ago and shrugging it off, the same person shouting “God, I love you” backstage after an X Factor performance, the same person who has loved him through ruthless tabloid articles and critical media images, the same person who has put ring after ring on Harry's fingers and made him promises Harry knows he will always keep.

“You look ethereal,” Harry tells him, the words tumbling off his tongue like he doesn't have a choice.

“You look drunk,” Louis chuckles back.

“That,” Harry says, looping his arm around Louis' shoulders, “is almost completely true.”

Louis kisses the bare skin of his bicep and smiles up at him.

“You're ridiculous.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

“You love me.”

Louis nods seriously. “I really do.”

Harry stops them on the sidewalk to capture Louis' mouth with his, not holding anything back this time. The street is quiet and abandoned, save for the couple of bar patrons stumbling their ways home, so he presses his tongue to the seam of Louis' lips until he gives in, parting them for Harry.

The kiss is days and seconds all at once. It's try-out bathrooms and picking out rings. It's scared "I love you"'s and bold proposals on hot Brazilian nights. It's the last six years of Harry's life wrapped up into one moment. It's home. Louis combs through Harry's curls on the top of his head and Harry hums, his thumbs rubbing along Louis' jaw until someone across the street shouts at them to get a room.

They break apart breathlessly, Louis laughing into Harry's mouth and slipping his hand back into Harry's. He looks so worn out but happy, and Harry feels something simmering in his chest at the sight of him.

“Let's go home, King of kicking balls.”

They set out down the street, buzzing and content, the night warm all around them.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the Ed Sheeran song Firefly.
> 
>  
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](%E2%80%9Dlittlelouies.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D).


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